


Hard out here for a bitch (with a baby)

by rohkeutta



Series: Stop interrupting my grinding [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Crack, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate language for future parents, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Mpreg, Nurse Bucky Barnes, Plot Twists, Sass, That is a tag I thought I'd never find myself using
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeutta
Summary: Cobaltmoony said: (Slip a 20) Can i ask for a mpreg au in this au?---When Bucky’s been throwing up every morning for four days, he grudgingly lets Steve drag him to the Tower to get checked.It comes, so to say, as a surprise when the doctor goes very quiet for a very long time, and then says, “You’re pregnant, Mr. Barnes.”“I’m fucking what?” Bucky asks.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cobaltmoony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobaltmoony/gifts).



> OKAY I'M SORRY, this is a kinda cracky mpreg bitch fic I wrote for Cobaltmoony's birthday so, uh, enjoy lmao. 
> 
> Thanks to Fox and obsessivereader for being superb beta readers & test audience.
> 
> Also: There are a couple of quippy lines referring to not-medically-safe-or-acceptable abortion, so please take it into consideration if it affects you.

When Bucky’s been throwing up every morning for four days, he grudgingly lets Steve drag him to the Tower to get checked.

It comes, so to say, as a surprise when the doctor goes very quiet for a very long time, and then says, “You’re pregnant, Mr Barnes.”

“I’m fucking what?” Bucky asks, while Steve stands next to him, dumbfounded.

The doctor eyeballs him a little, and Bucky can already see her plotting a lecture about cursing around a baby. Which. What the _fuck_.

“Do you use birth control?” The doctor asks.

Bucky gives her a long, slow look. “No,” he says, articulating very carefully. “I wasn’t aware that I needed birth control _for anal sex._ ”

She ignores him. “Well, at the most fertile phase of your cycle the birth control sometimes fails.”

Bucky blinks. Since when did he drop into an a/b/o fanfic? He’s been browsing Ao3 a lot in the past week while Steve’s been on a mission, so maybe this is life’s revenge for all the lost time he could’ve spent on housekeeping.

He glances at Steve, who’s looking a little misty-eyed and like he’s already painting the nursery in his mind with fat, happy bumblefuckers and singing flowers or some shit like that. Bucky’s seriously not good with kids.

It looks like he’d better learn, though, because if this isn’t an elaborate joke by his own body, Steve, and the doctor, Bucky’s gonna be a fucking dad. There’s not an option of terminating the baby, when Steve’s already mentally ordered a crib and glow-in-the-dark paint from Amazon.

Bucky can already see his mother’s expression when Bucky tells her that he’s expecting - before he’s even gotten married, no less. His mom has respectfully not intervened in his life for the past fifteen years, but babies are her ultimate weakness, and she’s probably gonna fret over Bucky not fitting into his tux by the wedding date. Bucky definitely doesn’t want to look like he ate a balloon in the wedding photos. Maybe Steve and he should just elope.

Jesus fucking Christ.

**

After Bucky gets over the initial bafflement and panic, it’s actually kinda exciting. He’s mildly fascinated, a little grossed out, and pretty astonished by the fact that he’s growing another human being inside him, and can justify eating a lot more once the baby is actually more than a blip of tissue inside him. He’s maybe a little alarmingly zen about the turn of the events, but then again—his whole relationship with Steve has been one weird-ass event after another, so what is a little unplanned male pregnancy on top of it.

Steve jumps aboard an annoying rollercoaster of emotions, switching from Full Future Dad Mode into a terrified kid who’s never had his dick in another person’s ass before in 0.3 seconds flat, getting on Bucky’s nerves. He spends a lot of time outside running in the first week. He likely has a lot of issues he needs to work through, so Bucky tries to be patient, no matter how fucking annoying it is to have Steve bolt outside for a run in the middle of Game of Thrones when they’ve just ordered a pizza, just because Bucky made a joke about there being three of them having dinner now.

Steve calms down a little around the end of the week, mostly because Bucky slams his fist down on the kitchen counter when Steve’s about to leave for a run in the middle of breakfast, and says, “What the _fuck_ is your problem, Rogers? Do you want this damn kid or not?”

Steve stops in his tracks, his eyes the size of dinner plates. “Of course I do!” he blurts.

“Then how about you stop avoiding me and everything related to this lump I’m growing?” Bucky points at his flat stomach with both hands, then gestures towards the half-finished oatmeal he’d managed to down despite his nausea. “It’s not very encouraging that you sprint out to run a fucking marathon whenever the pregnancy comes up. This is gonna go on for the next nine months, and if you don’t get a grip _right the fuck now_ , I’m going directly to the Tower and getting an abortion.”

Steve looks stunned, like he’d never stopped to think about how his behavior might have looked to Bucky. Then he draws a shaky breath, drops the sneakers he’s holding and strides across the kitchen to pull Bucky into a crushing hug.

“I’m sorry,” he says, muffled by Bucky’s bedhead. “Jesus, Buck, I’m so sorry-- of course I want this. I’ve just got issues.”

“No fucking shit,” Bucky says, sniffling a little. If the pregnancy hormones are already revving their engines, he’s gonna kill somebody. “But I’m carrying a scientifically impossible baby and I need you to cool it.”

“Yeah,” Steve says and rubs Bucky’s back with his big, warm hand. “I will. Who else is gonna yell at people on the subway for not giving up their seats when you get big, huh.”

“I’m gonna do the yelling,” Bucky protests and clings onto him a little tighter. “You can pick them up and throw them to the next carriage.”

“We’re gonna be horrible parents,” Steve says, laughing a little.

“I know,” Bucky replies and gives him a kiss.

**

Telling their friends goes a lot smoother than Bucky would’ve expected, if he doesn’t count the happy tears both Pepper and, surprisingly, Clint burst into, the list of terrible names Tony pulls out of his ass, or that Vision volunteers to deliver the baby, which, _what the fuck_.

Steve declines for both of them as politely as he can, but his hands are placed protectively on Bucky’s stomach, like he’s afraid Vision is gonna assume that the baby is ready to be taken out of the oven, and go ahead and cut their dime-sized kid out with his forehead laser.

“Holy cow,” is what Sam says when he hears the news, whistling a little. “That baby is gonna be the most patriotic, most fashionable little shit in the whole country.”

But he also hugs Bucky and Steve tightly, looking a little teary-eyed. “Steve,” he says after wiping his eyes, pointing at Steve threateningly. “I have five nieces and nephews and some asshole brothers-in-law, and I’ve seen some shit, so if you don’t pull your weight when that kid is born, I’m gonna kick your ass back into the Atlantic and marry your boy myself.”

Bucky loves Sam a little, and not least for the giant mango smoothie Sam buys for him in celebration.

Perhaps thanks to Sam’s threat, Steve gets fucking _unbearable_ in the following weeks: he suddenly turns into this perfectly-mannered, quietly-freaking-out ball of anxiousness, hovering, and happy thoughts. He insists on doing fucking everything for Bucky, even though the baby is still the size of a Brussels sprout, like Bucky isn’t a full-grown man who goes to gym regularly and _can open a damn can by himself_.

Steve even tries to tie Bucky’s shoes for him by the end of the tenth pregnancy week, but takes the hint when Bucky kicks him in the groin.

But Steve does good stuff too, like holds Bucky’s hair and rubs his back when Bucky’s throwing up, switches to drinking cranberry juice after the smell of OJ starts to make Bucky sick, and most importantly, tells their friends (and Bucky’s family, for which he gets a million kudos) that if anybody even considers buying them ‘funny’ onesies with slogans like ‘Pick me up, I like older women’, they’re gonna regret every second of their lives.

Yeah, Bucky loves him a lot, despite the hovering.

**

Thankfully, Bucky turns out to be one of those people who just grow a small beach ball in front of their body. That means that he can still fit in most of his jackets and looser shirts easily, and doesn’t have to get more than a couple of maternity joggers.

When he starts showing, his coworkers and patients suddenly start fucking _cooing_ at his stomach, talking like Bucky’s ceased to exist except as a fetus host. One old lady gets so handsy that Bucky has to call security. Three of his coworkers get so annoying that on one coffee break Bucky slams the fridge door closed so hard that it groans ominously, and tells them that if his baby bump is mentioned even in passing, he’s cutting the damn fetus out himself.

Unsurprisingly, the cooing stops, and he starts receiving disapproving glares instead. At least it’s quiet, and Bucky’s been disapproved of so much in his life that he’s learnt to ignore it.

He’s never been as glad that his mom is in Indiana, though, because she calls all the time and would probably be already camping on their couch if she lived any closer. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and she’s gone from a cool, chill mother into a crazy baby lady overnight. Bucky’s grateful for his dad, who very calmly cuts off the internet when his mom’s Skype calls start to get too long, or confiscates her credit card when she’s planning on flying down to ‘help’, like she doesn’t know that she’d drive Bucky crazy in less than two hours.

Bucky’s not counting on the peace to last, but he’s really fucking appreciative for it for now.

**

There are good sides to the pregnancy too, at least after he stops throwing up every morning. His skin and hair look better than ever, and Steve’s even crazier about his body than normally, so they have a lot of incredibly great but slightly-weird-because-of-the-extra-person sex. Bucky’s not gonna complain if just the sight of him waddling in through the front door after a long shift, complaining about his feet, is gonna get Steve so worked up that he practically picks Bucky up, puts him on the kitchen counter and blows him.

“You’re glowing,” Sam says when he come to visit, around Bucky’s 17th pregnancy week. “Like, holy shit, I always thought it was a myth, but you’re seriously glowing. Being preggers is a good look for you.”

“I’m kicking your ass if you say ‘preggers’ again,” Bucky says and stares longingly at the coffee maker. “Also, I look fucking amazing whether I’m pregnant or not.”

“Noted; agreeing,” Sam says, saluting him, and pulls a tub of pistachio ice cream from out of his backpack. “Here, little bird told me about your cravings.”

“Fuck _yeah_ ,” Bucky breathes and makes grabby hands towards the ice cream. “I’m totally appointing you as the godfather, if Steve didn’t do that yet.”

Sam stops, his hand still extended, and his eyes go round. _“Really?”_ he asks, and his voice is suddenly amazed and a little broken.

Bucky blinks as he cracks the tub open. “Yeah?” he says. “We’ve been talking about it, and if you want to, you’re down. My sister Rebecca is gonna be a godmother.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Sam repeats, “are you kidding? That is the best thing I’ve heard all week!” He leans over and gives Bucky a hug, mindful of the baby bump and the ice cream. Bucky pats him on the back.

“Of course I want to,” Sam says, grinning so wide that his cheeks have to hurt. “Holy shit, that’s awesome, thank you.”

“What’s awesome?” Steve asks as he appears from the bathroom. “Hey, is that pistachio ice cream?”

Bucky hisses at him, cradling the carton.

“I’m gonna make your kid an offer they can’t refuse,” Sam says, still grinning.

“Oh,” Steve says, and his expression goes fond. “Bucky asked you, then?”

“Hell _yeah,”_ Sam says, fistpumping. “You can call me Mr Godfather, Captain Dad.”

Steve groans, and Bucky shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

**

Steve actually throws a fuckboy out of his seat on the subway in early May, when the guy refuses to give his seat to ‘a knocked-up fat little faggot’. The guy also gets the roast of his lifetime - not from Bucky, who’s too busy choking up on his laughter, but from a huge, burly, middle-aged man who hears the slur at the other end of the carriage and comes barreling down to Bucky’s defense. The whole carriage applauds, when the man’s finished and the fuckboy has skulked out on the next station.

Turns out that the guy’s name is Fred, and he and Steve get on like a house on fire. Bucky’s really not surprised.

**

When the baby starts kicking, Steve gets suddenly very interested in lying on the couch with his head in Bucky’s lap, ear pressed against Bucky’s stomach, talking to the baby in a low voice. It’s usually so soft that Bucky can’t make out the words, but if Steve’s fond smile is any indication, it’s something sappy and horrible that makes his pregnancy hormones go into overdrive.

He knows that the movements of the baby can’t be felt from the outside yet, but Steve seems pretty invested in listening to the kid anyway. He could probably be quoting a phone book to the baby, and Bucky would still be getting emotional over it.

Their friends are absolutely fascinated by Bucky’s bump, but thankfully Steve’s territorial glaring and Bucky’s usual bitchface work, and none of them puts their hands on Bucky’s person without permission. Only Sam is usually bold enough to ask if he can touch, the rest just stare enviously as Sam pats Bucky’s stomach while having a perfectly normal discussion with Bucky instead of babbling nonsense to his kid, which is refreshing.

“We don’t have space for a nursery,” Steve says one day, looking horrified, like he’s just realized that the apartment they have is indeed not the biggest, and they can’t really transform the tiny extra bedroom into a nursery, because it’s basically Bucky’s walk-in closet and there’s absolutely no other place in their apartment to fit all his clothes.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky says, lying on his back on the couch with an icepack on his forehead, because he has a killer headache, and the baby is kicking so hard that it feels like they’re practising the can-can.

“I’m gonna make some space,” Steve says and disappears for a while. Bucky relishes the silence, rubbing his stomach, trying to calm the baby down.

Then Steve comes back, clattering on his way out the back door into the tiny backyard of their building. “I’m gonna build a shed,” he says as he goes. “Like a chicken coop. For the baby.”

“What the fuck,” Bucky says, but Steve’s already gone, and Bucky decides that he absolutely did hear wrong, and settles back down on his sea of pillows.

“Your dad is a fucking lunatic,” he tells the baby. “If I could save you from him, I would. We didn’t even want kids because he’s a crazy fuck and I’m horrible influence, but he’s gone even crazier after you turned up.”

There are some hammering noises drifting in from the backyard, and Bucky squeezes his eyes closed more tightly, yawning. The baby kicks a couple of times more, then settles down, and yeah, napping is _definitely_ the plan.

**

Bucky startles awake. It’s dark, and he’s in bed, lying on his stomach which feels flat and warm against the cotton of his t-shirt. He pushes himself up on his elbows, a little disoriented, rolls on his back and checks if there’s a baby monitor on the nightstand. He pats his stomach for good measure, looking for traces of the baby bump he had just seconds ago.

He’s never been happier to find out that no, no baby monitors or cribs in sight. There’s just the normal mess of their bedroom, and Steve, who’s snoring softly next to him.

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs and crawls over so that he’s lying on top of Steve. “Hey, Steve, I had the weirdest dream.”

“Whhaa—?” Steve mumbles as he stirs, not bothered in the slightest that there’s a grown man on top of him. “Bbbcky?”

“I had a dream we got a fucking baby,” Bucky tells him. “I was pregnant and had this fucking bump and you were building a chicken coop in the backyard to act as the damn nursery.”

“You’ve been readin’ too much fanfiction,” Steve slurs. “Were ya glowin’ at least? I bet ya were glowin’.”

“Fuck you, imaginary baby daddy,” Bucky says.

“Love you too,” Steve warbles and wraps his huge arms around Bucky, rolling them over so that they’re on their sides, Bucky squished against Steve’s chest. “But don’t grow a baby, I can’t handle them.”

“You can’t even handle yourself, do you think I’d take the risk and have a child with you?” Bucky asks, but Steve just kisses him on the nose and goes back to sleep. Fucker.

At least Bucky’s abs are intact.

**

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Happy bday moony ♥
> 
> My tumblr is [here](http://rohkeutta.tumblr.com).


End file.
